


I Always Know

by sevenlostkeys



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Episode: The Day of the Doctor, F/M, Lemon, Rare Pairings, Spoilers for Episode: The Day of the Doctor, The Day of the Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenlostkeys/pseuds/sevenlostkeys
Summary: Clara Oswald knows exactly what the War Doctor needs.
Relationships: The Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Clara Oswin Oswald, The War Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, The War Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	I Always Know

She was like a flicker in the corner of his eye -- the Moment was -- and then she turned to Clara. Wasn’t that the way of things? The War Doctor wasn’t sure -- there in the Black Archive, where a good many of his secrets lay -- why anyone would follow him, or why anyone had in the first place. His war-torn leather jacket hung extra heavy against his bony shoulders. 

While the Chinny one and Sandshoes did their Timey Wimey Sideshow attempt at saving the world, the War Doctor found an old armchair tucked away. Had this been his? He’d drank Earl Grey and read books in this chair...oh what a different man he’d been back then. Now he felt like a shell. He noticed a thermos of tea on the desk and decided there’s no use in good tea getting cold, not at the end of all things. He unscrewed the lid and carefully poured out a bit into the stainless steel top. He rustled around looking for a bit of sugar but came up empty-handed and decided to settle in. 

After the first sip, Clara Oswald materialized again, pulling up a chair. 

“I’m Clara, we haven’t really met yet.” 

“I look forward to it,” he managed, sounding more like himself than the warrior he’d had to become.

She stared at him in wonder, her brown eyes bright and warm. He bristled a bit.

“Is there a problem?” 

“The Doctor, my Doctor, he’s always talking about the day he did it..the day we wiped out the time lords to stop the war…”

“One would…”

“You wouldn’t...because you haven’t done it yet. It’s still in your future.”

Suddenly he felt cold and hot at the same time...how could she know?

“You’re very sure of yourself,” he spat back.

“He regrets it, I see it in his eyes every day...he’d do anything to change it.”

“...How did you know?” he asked softly.

“Your eyes,” she said, never breaking her glance. It’s like she could see right through him, no matter what sort of armor he put up. Was she always like this? “You’re so much younger.” 

…............

 _“You’re so much younger.”_

Those words kept rattling in his head the whole time he spun his TARDIS through orbit back to the National Gallery. He landed her squarely between his future selves’ ships and found Chinny and Sandshoes mucking about while Clara wandered around the gallery. 

He leaned against his TARDIS, a bit of confidence and calm rushing over him. He waited for her to turn in his direction before beckoning her over. 

“What is it -- did something else happen?” she asked.

“I think we could all use a spot of tea. Could you help me while they -- I -- figure myself out?” he asked, nodding in the Eleventh and Tenth Doctors’ direction. 

“It would be my pleasure,” she smiled, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing slightly before skipping through the TARDIS doors. 

He followed her as she headed down the left corridor to the kitchen -- it’s good to know he hasn’t moved it -- and she tossed her leather coat over the back on a chair. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I might need to freshen up a bit after all this scurrying around,” she said as she snooped through the cabinets looking for cups. 

“No please,” he said, deciding to shake his heavy jacket as well and tear at his tattered scarf. 

She was standing on tiptoe pulling down gold-gilded teacups and saucers. “Since we saved the world, proper china is in order, I think.” She placed the cups and saucers on the table and then went about starting the kettle and popping some loose tea in a large pot. 

“Do you mind fetching the sugar and lemon, Doctor?” 

He’d not been called that in years. 

“Of course.” 

They both collided by the table, with the doctor clunking down a sugar bowl and a plate of lemon slices. All the teaspoons Clara had clattered to the floor. They both crouched down to pick them up when his right arm brushed her left knee.

“My apologies --” he started when she put her hand to his lips. 

“Shhhh,” she offered in her best school teacher tone. She pushed him back on the floor. “No more...talking,” she managed, her breath catching as she struggled with his belt and the zip on his trousers. His hands were in her chestnut hair, which felt like fine silk on his fingertips, as he leaned up to kiss her neck. She smelled like bonfires in autumn time but tasted of the finest custard. She pressed closer as he traced kisses along her jawline.

His shaky hands fiddled with the top buttons of her dress, and then her soft breasts were filling his rough hands. He ran his thumbs over her nipples, pinching them lightly. She moaned then, but then shifted downward once she freed his hard cock from his trousers. She took him in her mouth, her hands gripping his hips as she sucked. She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes never leaving his face, adjusting her ministrations based on his breath and tension in his legs. 

It had been years...centuries since he’d been touched. He’d kept himself hidden for so long. But she saw him for what he was and knew this is what he needed...and what she needed as well. He pulled her up then, reaching under her dress and tearing open her stockings and knickers, his thumb finding her clit. Gods, she was soaking...and it was all for him.

She pushed his hands away then, and straddled him, lowering herself onto him. They both sputtered a bit, then she placed her hands on his chest and began to ride him. He felt himself getting close and he gripped her hips, increasing her speed, causing her to unravel before his eyes. He pushed himself up quickly and grabbed his war-worn jacket, tossing it on the ground next to them, and he flipped her over so she was on her knees and he could take her fully from behind. She moaned, turning her head back to glance at him and giving a slight nod. He filled her to the hilt then, his right hand plucking at her clit while his left pulled her up to him, his soft grip on her neck. She met his thrusts measure for measure and then melted together, collapsing on his jacket, their moans covered by the kettle’s whistle. 

“How...how did you know…” he asked breathlessly, his face full of wonder.

“I always know,” she said simply, her fingers working quickly to button and smooth her red ditsy print dress back to a presentable state. “Now, come on...it’s time for that cuppa.”


End file.
